The meeting

He checked his wallet, the fifth time in as many minutes, taking a look at the ragged, dirt stained piece of bar napkin.

It read: “10th avenue, behind the mall, 9 PM xoxo”.

He checked his watch: “9:05”. He half heartedly hoped she would not keep her appointment.

To think about it, this was the first time he had ever gone this far. While he always made it a point to get ladies’ phone numbers when he went drinking with his buddies on Friday nights, this was the first time he was actually meeting a girl whom he had randomly met, half drunk, in a cheap bar.

By now he could feel his silver wedding band burn a hole in his pocket, as hot sweat dripped down his back, almost feeling like his wife’s fingernails when he made love to her on lazy Sunday mornings. He wished he had worn a cotton shirt, it was too fucking hot tonight and yes, God-damn-it, he was nervous as hell. He had never cheated on his wife before. He realized he didn’t want to.

So he took a cab home as soon it was a quarter past 9.

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